


Shit Flavored Candy

by ACatNamedCrowley



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Old God Baby Making, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatNamedCrowley/pseuds/ACatNamedCrowley
Summary: Alistair and Morrigan uncomfortable, barely consensual, archdemon old god baby-making catastrophe.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Morrigan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Shit Flavored Candy

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is the result of what happens when you leave me and my best friend alone with alcohol. We have very similar tastes in video games. Bioware having some of our favourite titles like Mass Effect and Dragon Age. We were talking about how ungodly awkward and miserable Alistair and Morrgan’s baby archdemon sex ritual was. I said that sex was probably like shit flavoured candy. Yeah, it’s candy, but….you don’t want it. So here is the literary composition of that conversation that nobody asked for.

“WHAT?!” He shouted in horror. His fiance, the love of his life, the only woman to ever share his bed, wanted him to get that woman with child? She had gone mad, surely. The idea was as repulsive as it was impossible. Her incessant torments and proddings at his ego. He would sooner be willing to bed the archdemon. If such things were possible and would result in the end of the blight it would be a preferable alternative. One was a monster, the other a dragon. At least he would have a tale to tell around the campfire with the latter. “I...I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to impregnate Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?!”

She knew Alistair would fight the inevitable. He was a good, loyal man. In any other situation, his refusal would be praiseworthy. However, this was a matter of life and death. They did not have the luxury of delicate sensibilities. Wardens did whatever was necessary for the cause. If it meant her life she would accept her fate and spare Fereldan an uncertain future without a rightful monarch. But, if what Morrigan suggests means no warden need die tomorrow the would be fools not to seize the chance. “I am Alistair. It…”

From her mouth, those lovely lips that spoke such honeyed words in their private moments came the most reviling response he could have heard. She wanted this. Wanted him to do this. He paced the floor, prey in a trap, desperate for means of escape. Maker, help him, a child of his and Morrigan’s union. Why? To what end? “This...child…” The word felt wrong in his mouth. Like rancid fruit crawling with maggots. “Why would Moriigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?

She stepped closer, hoping to halt his frantic pacing. “Morrigan said the soul of the Old God that is trapped within the dragon will seek out the child instead of ending our lives. I can’t say as to what she intends to do with the child once it is born. But I am certain she does not mean to harm it.” Thinking better of her friend she amended, “Reasonably certain.”

Alistair couldn’t believe the insanity of the situation. Morrigan a mother? She would torment the child, just as surely as the sun rose every morning. To have that child blighted with the soul of a twisted being, as well as suffer its harrowing upbringing, it was too much. “Oh. Well, that’s so much better, don’t you think? Here I was worried about creating another bastard heir and I didn’t even consider that it might also be some dragon...god...whatever!”

He could see the writing on the wall. This wasn’t a request. This was a way to get someone to drink the poison without a fight. His stomach boiled its protest. “Look, even if I was willing to entertain the idea...and I am not saying I am...is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure…?” Please say no. He wanted her to spare him this fate. Offer another solution. Anything besides laying with that witch. 

He desperation of his voice pulled at her heart. If she had any other candidate she would spare him this ordeal. She stepped in, pulling him to wrap his arms around her waist, holding him to her chest. Trying, but surely failing to comfort him. “We have to take this chance. Even if it fails at least we did everything we could. I don’t ask this lightly, Alistair. I don’t like the thought any more than you do, but...there is no other way.”

Alistair tightened his hold on her. Needing the anchor to keep his world from spiralling more into the abyss. “No, I can’t...I can’t do it. You can’t ask me to do this, not like this.

She sat on his lap, cradling his face. “If I could do it myself I would. Please, think about what this means, for us.”

How did she so completely beguile him? Were she in his shoes she wouldn’t hesitate. He knew that, even without her saying as much. That was why she is the better leader. The warden he needed to be. “Oh, great. Of all times to regret being a man.” Morrigan flashed in his mind’s eye, his insides shrivelled in objection. “Look, just because I have the proper...just because I can...look, that doesn’t make this a good idea!”

He was there, just at the moment of relenting his protest. One more push. She felt like a villain betraying her lover for the chance at survival. She only hoped she would have time enough to make amends. “If we don’t do this one of us will die tomorrow. Morrigan is at least offering us a chance at survival.

“At what cost?” A child, raised my an apostate witch, marching on Denerim, at the head of a column of abominations and Maker knows what else, in twenty years time to claim its birthright by way of the sword? The thought of Morrigan using their puppet offspring to sink her claws into the kingdom was too risky. But to have a chance at a life with the woman that was to be his queen, Alistair’s heart outweighed any sense of duty to a land that neither wanted him nor celebrated his appointment.

“And, the cost of the alternative? If Riordan and I are killed tomorrow…” 

He pulled away. He’d be damned if he watched her fall to the same cruel end as Duncan had. “Stop.”

It was a duplicitous tactic to play on his fears, she knew, but it was true all the same. She couldn’t falter now. “If we are killed and it is up to you to slay the archdemon Ferelden will be without its king. I can not allow that.”

Alistair held her forehead to his. Eyes focused, burning with conviction. “You are not going to die tomorrow.”

She caressed his stubbled cheek. “If we don’t take this chance I will likely have no choice. You can not take the killing blow. I wouldn’t allow it. Do this for us, Alistair. That on the other side of all of this horror we may still have one another.”

Alastair sighed his acquiescence. A few moments of inexplicable torture in exchange for his beloveds life. There was nothing to be done but concede. “I...I suppose I’ll just have to live with the fact that you have me wrapped completely around your finger.” Resting back in the chair he resigned himself to the deed. “All right. I give up. I’ll do it.” His stomach threatened to relieve him of his supper. Groaning he looked at the door. “Where is she? Let’s go get this over with before I...change my mind.

They found the witch of the hour beside the hearth of the common room. Studying the fire as though it held ancient secrets waiting to be shared. “T’would seem your talk is done?” Alistair did not look pleased, which any other moment would be delightful. As things stood now, it would have been ideal to have a somewhat more willing participant. 

Damn this woman. What was she planning? Alistair may have agreed, but he wanted Morrigan to know just how opposed to the idea he was. “Great, so this isn’t a dream after all.”

Morrigan held back the venom she wanted to spat into the ungrateful fool’s face. Being a shrew now would make things all the more difficult later. “What is it to be, then? Has a decision been reached?” They were before her, it could only mean one thing. 

Tightening her grip on her fiance’s hand the Warden affirmed, “Alistair has agreed to your...request.” The one thing that gave her strength was that both parties seemed to be as eager as she was to give her permission.

Before he could in good conscience if one could have such a thing in these circumstances, fully relent, Alastair needed to ensure the safety of Ferelden. “Wait. I want to ask about this...child...That you...want.

“Interesting. Honesty wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Then again neither was Alistair. 

He expected nothing less from one of her ilk, but even know he had to trust her word. “I just want to be sure you are not going to use this...against Ferelden. That this bastard child of mine isn’t going to how up some year to…” Behead me and throw Ferelden into chaos. 

She wanted to laugh in his face. She intended to put as much distance between herself and this blighted land as possible. “Of that, you have my word.”

Alistair sighed. The word of a maleficar wasn’t one he held in high regard. Such as it was it would have to do. “Why don’t I feel any better about this? All right. Let’s...just get this over with.”

“Let us go somewhere more private, Alistair.” That was a phrase she thought she would never have to utter. The idiotic man’s face echoed her sentiment on the situation, but no matter how loathsome it was to unite in congress with Alistair, the rite must be performed. For her goal, and to spare a dear friend. “And believe me when I say you will not hate this quite so much as you believe.”

Alistair's heart plummeted like a stone into the pit of his stomach. He turned to his fellow warden. By the Maker she was beautiful. They may come to regret this night later, but for her, he would sacrifice anything. One last kiss was what he needed to reassure himself she would be there on the other end of this particular hell. She must have sensed it because before he could speak thought into words she pulled him into a heated kiss. Her leather-clad body pressed against his. He would hold to her scent, her touch, the sound of her breathless need for him during what was to come. “I love you,” He reminded, in uncharacteristic sincerity. 

“And I, you. This changes nothing between us Alistair. Find me after?” She asked trying to not contemplate what she had forced her beloved to endure. 

“I will.” He said before stealing one last kiss. 

Turning away he followed the witch into her quarters. He kept his back to her as he divested himself of his protective layers. “Why him” was the question that repeated through his mind. When he was at last down to his small clothes he ascended the bed and lay down. The room was warm thanks to the fire, he could be thankful for that at least. 

Morrigan looked over her shoulder. The boar was silent for once. Putting all other thoughts out of her head besides her intended mission she faced him. With the grace of a feline, she closed the distance between them. It was her job to provide the needed inspiration. No matter how she may wish to fulfil the buffon’s worst fears of turning him into a toad he was the only person in Ferelden that could provide the additional materials for this spell. The more she could encourage some attraction, even base animalistic desire, the sooner this will be over. She only hoped the child produced would not have the same idiotic insufferable nature as Alistair. She assessed him. He wasn’t unappealing physically. Though about as masculine as a frightened rabbit. 

As the marsh dweller approached him Alistair felt panic begin to set in. He assured himself this was a horrible blight induced nightmare, he would wake from at any moment. Knowing that way of thinking that way would do nothing beyond prolonging the endeavour he turned his thoughts to more pleasant memories. For Fereldan, for his bride, and for all of Thedas he was expected to perform. For his own sanity, he needed to perform faster than he had ever done so before. 

As Morrigan mounted the bed, Alistair scurried backwards. Part of her enjoyed his fearful reaction to her. The other, had she been a weaker woman, might have taken offence. She wondered if any of Flemith’s lovers had ever recoiled thusly. When there was no more room for his retreat she tried for a simple first touch. Alistair tensed but did not pull away. Resting her hand on his shoulder Morrigan willed herself to move in to unite their lips. The look of abject terror on the incompetent warden’s face told her she needn’t bother. Instead, she moved beyond him to extinguish the candle.

When icy fingers take hold of the one last vestiture of his modesty Alistair couldn’t contain the startled gasp that left his lips. 

“Alistair,” Morrigan said, in the most pleasant patronizing tone she could manage. “You are going to need to relax. I have no intention of touching you more than absolutely necessary.”

“Do you have to touch me at all?” He whined petulantly.

Again she schooled her tone neutral, as though a teacher innocuously instructing their protege.“I can’t conceive a child from across the room. Now, if you would please lay back and focus on your portion of the act. We can be done with this.”

“For the Wardens.” he whimpered pitifully.

In the dimness of the room, she had to feel for her target. As expected he was somewhere between aroused and repulsed. Morrigan stroked him with clinical purpose. Alistar huffed a stifled gasp as his manhood was handled with surprising skill. He didn’t want to think about Morrigan in any way beyond her being the swamp-dwelling churlish maleficar she was. Clenching his eyes, he pushed the heels of his palms into their sockets. He thought of his bride to be. Her beautiful face smiling down on him. The hand on him hers. Her lovely hair unbound falling freely to her breasts; and what breast they were. He feels himself respond. With another few strokes, he is released. Initially, a voice sang praises to the Maker that she had changed her mind. When he felt the bed shift and heat hovering above him he froze. His mind darted back to the memory of his lover’s arms. Hoping his imagination could shelter him there.

As Morrigan lowered herself onto Alistair’s appendage she was thankful the dotard covered his eyes. She was unable to control the expression of disgust as the united. All hopes that the simple-minded king beneath her would have been less noticeable we dashed. He filled her more than was comfortable and for that, she would never forgive him. His unpleasant pained mewling only stoked further resentment. 

His body tensed completely as she rose back up his length. For a moment Morrigan thought the ordeal may have come to a swift end. She was less than pleased when found his stamina was not as inept as one might presume. 

Morrigan began to set a steady rhythm, just as Alaistair groaned in protest “The faster you finish the sooner I leave you in peace.”

“Stop. Talking.” He commanded.

“As you wish.” She hoped stimulation alone would be enough to bring him to completion. 

Alistair clung to the image of his beloved. Features expressing her pleasure as she claimed him. He heard his name on her lips. Her alluring moans of ecstasy. She was everything he wanted. Her pace increased; her warmth surrounded him. He felt it, right at the peak of his summit. Rosey lips cried out his name dragging him into his release. 

Morrigan felt him tense, moaning his fellow warden’s name, as he flowed into her. Waiting until he was completely spent she rejoiced inwardly for his brevity. Slipping away she lay on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. It was her turn to make the commands. “It is over Alistair. Please collect your things and find yourself elsewhere.”

He felt dirty, like an old used whore after a long night. He hurried to do as bid. Maker knows what sins he would have to atone, for this accursed act of self-preservation. Once he was clothed enough not to mortify the guard he stole from the uncomfortable room. The lingering trepidation he felt as to what abomination he had just aided in creating plagued his thought all the way back into Lady Cousland’s embrace.


End file.
